Expectations
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Oneshot. If TV crime dramas have taught us anything, it's that it's never the first person you suspect.


Insert standard disclaimer here.

Spoilers: Scenes I'd like to unsee from _Dead and Unburied_ and _Once a Hero_.

Summary: You'd think everyone at NCIS would know by now that it never turns out to be the first person suspected.

* * *

It had started the previous afternoon. People had been giving him funny looks, subtly pointing and staring at him. Traffic through the squad room had increased threefold for no apparent reason than the attraction of nonchalantly passing his desk. And it wasn't just women; men were winking at him and slapping him on the back. As much as he liked attention, this sudden spike of extra interest was beginning to get very unsettling for Tony.

What really worried him was that it seemed to be increasing. Since he and Ziva had started eating, at least three small groups had walked past. One woman had even intentionally bumped into the chair Ziva had rolled over to his desk, only to offer a giggly apology about interrupting their lunch. He swallowed a bite of lo mein and eyed his partner across his desk. "Do things seem a little weird around here to you?"

"What, you mean the fact that everyone around us is laughing at nothing or how all the people who've been pointing at you from across the office since yesterday are now doing the same thing to me?"

"You sure that they're not aiming for me and hitting you by accident?"

She rolled her eyes. "Tony, they're not shooting at us, they're pointing. With their _fingers_." She emphasized the point by poking him in the shoulder several times with her index finger.

"Right. What d'ya think is going on?"

"I have no idea. But if it doesn't stop soon there may just be some shooting."

He returned her smirk just in time for two passing agents to elbow each other and whisper. He spoke through gritted teeth, "Something we can do for you, Riley? Masterson?"

Masterson blushed to her hairline, and Riley pushed his glasses up his nose as he stammered, "Uh, no, Agent DiNozzo. We were just, uh, we were just going."

He watched them slink away, waving to them as they both tried to sneak glances over their shoulders. "Maybe they're pods. Or robots. Or…"

"Can't you go one day without relating every little detail of your life to a movie?" she interrupted. "One day, that's all I ask."

"Oh, I have a whole catalogue of movies I could apply to this situation." Her expression told him all he needed to know about the consequences of enumerating said catalogue. He took another bite of his lo mein. "Maybe fum uffer time."

"It's rude to speak with your mouth full." She swiveled her chair. "Your lunch is getting cold, McGee."

"Oh, thanks." He didn't look at either of them as he picked up his box and returned to his desk. He studiously focused on his computer screen as he began eating.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Tony said, loud enough for McGee to hear. "Everyone in the entire building is making time to stare at us, but Probie won't even look at us. What do you know, McGee?"

"Nothing."

"Has anyone ever told you the value of making eye contact when you're speaking to someone?"

McGee's eyes remained fixed on his computer.

Tony turned back to his food. "I give up. The whole world has gone nuts and you and I are the only sane ones left."

Ziva shook her head. "Truly terrifying."

They turned their heads as McGee's phone rang. "Yes?" He immediately lowered his voice. "I haven't asked yet…No, I will…No! Abby you don't have to come up here…I'll ask." He placed the receiver in the cradle and took an audible breath before turning to face them.

Tony slowly stuck his chopsticks in his noodles and placed his food on his desk. "Now what was that all about, Probie?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Abby, uh, wants me to ask you two something."

"Ask away." Tony stood and walked to McGee's desk, followed closely by Ziva.

"Well, the thing is, it's, um, it's about this rumor and I don't know if you've heard about it, but I don't think you have because…"

"You're scrambling, McGee."

"Rambling, Ziva. He's rambling."

She waved Tony off. "Whatever. Just get to the point McGee."

He stood, holding his hands up, palms out in a defensive gesture. "Okay, remember I'm just the messenger here. You know Janine Patterson, the switchboard operator? Well, early yesterday morning she went to get some staples or something and she heard someone having sex in the supply closet."

"And…?" Ziva prompted.

McGee was getting more unnerved by the second. "Who's the first person anyone who's worked here for more than five minutes would suspect?" He looked significantly at Tony.

"Okay but that doesn't explain…"

Tony interrupted in a hoarse whisper, "They all think it was us. You and me. In the supply closet."

"Oh!" She took a very fast step away from him. "But that's absurd. Ridiculous. Absolutely unbelievable."

Tony frowned. "You can stop there."

"But it is ridiculous." She was pacing rapidly now. "We are professionals. I find it insulting that anyone would think us that crass, that we would…in the supply room, no less!"

"Well, if I were anyone other than me, I would probably think I was the ideal suspect in this case. But, as I know that I was not having sex in the supply room, that leaves us with a bit of a quandary."

"Who else would be that stupid?" She nodded to Palmer, who had just arrived with the autopsy report they'd been waiting on. "Thanks, Jimmy."

He smiled, "No problem, Ziva. Hey, what are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, grown up stuff. Jimmy. Perhaps when you are a man, you'll understand," Tony said dismissively. He turned back to Ziva. "I was actually referring to the quandary of who in the agency could be a bigger stud than me. _That_ is the real mystery here."


End file.
